Family Days ....

Kill

I want to kill the acrid taste in my mouth
and fly
like Robbie Robot
high

dissolute and landing
to the eclectic
feedback
spilling TV
that leeches from beneath a bedroom door

and inside
the shattered synapse
lies
a young boy
spilling sparks
like
two babes conjoined
and cholic

spinning dull rhythm
blades
that overhead
the thin night

Emptied

picking through the remnants of a day
and opened suitcases
revealing
emptiness

I found a photograph of my sister
black and white and innocent
and mourned

I hold it close to me now

and a stitched sample
secreted within a cold, hard wooden chest
the traces of a passing younger hand

before the emptying

a tumbler roll as I replace the key in the safe
and pass from this still sad place

of a world

emptied

Empty